


Love of Mine

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [176]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Avenger Loki (Marvel), Baking, Burns, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Good Loki (Marvel), Hurt Loki (Marvel), Light Angst, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29769558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: When an everyday kind of injury sends Loki’s mind back to dark places, you’re there to get him through it.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [176]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 10
Kudos: 117





	Love of Mine

**Author's Note:**

> With all the panic-attack fics I’ve written, I just realized that I haven’t written any wherein you are the one who comforts Loki. So here we are! I know that panic attacks are so much more than difficulty breathing and racing thoughts but...I mean, I write from what I know, and that part is what I know, unfortunately. 
> 
> I don't spend a _ton_ of time focusing on Loki's panic attack, and he shares incredibly-few details, so I don't _think_ this should hurt anyone, but please let me know if I'm wrong.

It started out like any other day. Well, more or less. Never in a million years would you have expected a “normal day” for you to include hanging out with Loki of Asgard, but...well, you were good at adapting to new things. Most mornings, you hardly even felt the need to pinch yourself to see if you were still dreaming when you woke up and saw him sleeping there beside you. He made breakfast, while you made coffee, and the two of you sat there at the table in your tiny kitchen in your tiny apartment, chatting fondly with each other as you woke up. It was all so charmingly domestic, and you were finally starting to accept the fact that Loki _liked_ it. It took a long time, but your brain was finally starting to relax into accepting his presence instead of running wild with all kinds of tortuous thoughts about how he’d rather be anywhere else, out there adventuring in the world with someone so much More than you.

But even after all this time, he still winked at you every time he caught you staring, and that still made your insides go all fluttery.

Later in the afternoon, the two of you started baking together. Well, really, you started baking and the sounds of your work drew him into the kitchen to join you. Being who he was, Loki had a way of bringing just a little bit of chaos anywhere he went, so it was a little nerve-wracking to bake with him. He grabbed your hips to pull you backwards against him while you were trying to carefully measure out the ingredients. He interrupted you to steal kisses and soft caresses and to say all sorts of sweet things that made your cheeks burn fiercely as you worked. He scolded you for eating the raw dough, but then stole some for himself any time your back was turned. You wouldn’t have traded it for anything.

Once the dough was mixed and the cookies laid out on the baking sheets, he crept up behind you while you were putting them in the oven and dragged his fingers up the back of your legs before giving your rear end a loving pinch. The man absolutely savored the sounds you made when he surprised you like that, and when you gave a rather undignified squeak and turned around to try to slap his chest, he just crushed you in his arms with a low chuckle and slanted his mouth over yours.

That was how you spent much of the baking time of the cookies. Wound around one another, clutching tightly to whatever you could hold, kissing like it was meant to be the last time you’d ever see each other. You always felt safest, most at home, there in his arms. There was always so much urgency in his kiss, tempered with a sense of timelessness. The clock might as well have stopped when you kissed him. He fisted his hands in your hair, held you close, kissed you like he was somehow starved for you. When he felt your knees wobble ( _and who could blame you?_ ), he walked you backwards until you were pressed against the wall for a little more support. Your heart beat wildly in your chest.

You were the one to break the kiss, twisting your head away just far enough to draw a breath. He watched you with something sharp in his eyes, something hungry, and that look, combined with the way that his lips were already kiss-swollen and pink, made you giggle a little nervously. He was _so pretty_. He had to know that, right? You worked your fingers through the hair at the back of his head and drew your lower lip between your teeth.

“You’re beautiful,” he rasped, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “Have I told you that today?”

You laughed and shook your head. Was he reading your mind? You tugged gently on his hair, eliciting something like a cross between a growl and a purr. You loved when he made that sound. You loved being the one to make him make that sound. “Not today, no, but that’s okay. You’ve definitely told me that enough times now to last me for the rest of my life.” Especially when he said it while holding you like this.

You felt him shake his head, then, but he didn’t pull away from you. “That’s nonsense. You should hear it often. I’ll tell you every day for the rest of your life, because it’s true. You precious, _beautiful_ creature. I still can’t believe you’re mine. You _are_ mine, aren’t you?” He cupped your cheeks in his palms, and he held you like you were something delicate. When he brushed his thumbs along your cheekbones, you actually had to blink back against the sudden sting of tears. 

You nodded, but you didn’t even have to look at him to know that he needed to hear the words. “I’m yours,” you breathed, putting as much heat and sincerity into the words as you could manage. “I’m all yours, Loki, for as long as you want me. That’s all I could ever want. I want you.”

“Ah, my pretty, pretty love…” His voice sounded odd, a little thick. As though to distract you from the sound, he tipped your chin up and kissed you again. It was easy to lose yourselves in one another there, perhaps because you both knew that the other would always keep you safe. With so many of your other past partners, kissing had only ever felt like a means to an end. They would kiss you for a while, but their hands always started to wander. But Loki kissed you like it was all he wanted. Like it was all he needed to sustain him. You never felt like he was just biding his time until you’d let him touch you, and that in itself was intoxicating. 

The oven timer interrupted you then, and you startled at the sudden noise. You felt Loki laugh just before he pulled back and pressed one more kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

“Cookies are done…” Even to your own ears, you sounded dreamy and breathless. In a different situation, you knew your cheeks would have burned again, but, right now, you knew that you had nothing to be ashamed of. Loki took a step away from you, but raised your hand to his lips as he did.

“Allow me, my love. Let me brave the dangers of the realm of fire for you.” He grinned, then, and grabbed an oven mitt before opening the oven. The first tray came out just fine, and he placed it on top of the stove to cool. When he reached in for the second tray, though, he grinned at you over his shoulder and arched his back a bit, likely to show off his ass. You wanted to reach for it, give him a good solid pinch as payback for earlier, but, before you could, he spat out a string of harsh words and flinched into himself. 

He dropped the baking sheet and grabbed his wrist, and you went to him in an instant. “What happened? Did you get burned?” You wanted to reach for his injured arm, but he wrenched himself away from you with a guttural growl. He kicked the oven closed without a thought of the spilled cookies and leaned against the counter. He was muttering something in a low voice. You didn’t recognize any of the words he was saying. Was this Asgardian?

“Hey, it’s okay. Will you let me see? Loki? Let’s run your arm under cold water, okay? That can keep a burn from getting worse. Honey?” You reached for his arm again, a little more carefully this time, and he did permit you to take hold of him. There was already an angry red streak up his arm, probably from the rack in the oven. You _tsked_ sympathetically under your breath and guided him to the sink so you could run some cool water over the burn. He let you. He gasped a little when the water first touched his burn, but he didn’t try to recoil away. His breathing sounded funny. It was almost like he was choking, like he couldn’t get enough air. This poor man. “I’m so sorry, Loki. I used to do that all the time. Burn myself on the oven? It sucks, I know. Are you okay?”

He said something, but, once again, you couldn’t really make out the words. He wouldn’t look at you, either. After a few more moments, he yanked his arm away from you and stalked out of the kitchen, leaving you to turn off the oven and then hurry behind him. 

He was heading into the living room, but he was moving strangely. He looked wobbly. It was like he was trying to make it to the couch, but his legs gave out just a few steps away and he sank to the floor instead. Only then did it click for you. The breathing, the movements. He was having a panic attack. With your heart in your throat, you joined him there on the floor. You were afraid to reach for him, unwilling to scare him even worse, but you did duck down a little to try to catch his eyes.

“Loki, you’re okay. This is normal. It’ll pass, okay? I’ve got you, honey, you’re safe here.” It was hard to tell whether or not he could hear you. What were you supposed to do in this kind of situation? Was this about the burn? Did you cause this with the water? A thousand different thoughts whirled through your brain, but you willed them all away so you could focus on Loki. It hurt to hear him struggle for breath, so you did force yourself to reach out and take his hand, only to press it against your stomach. “Baby, can you breathe with me? Deep and slow, okay? Try to match my breaths.” You breathed deeply for him, and you did hear him try to match your pace. Your heart squeezed in your chest. This was the hardest part, you knew: getting your breathing back under control. It always felt like you were choking, like you were running out of oxygen, but no matter how desperately you tried to suck in all the air you could get, it was never enough. You kept talking to him while you breathed, chanting his name in a low voice and assurances that he was safe here and promises that this would pass. You said the things you always ached to hear. You pressed your forehead against his and listened to the sound of his breathing. “You are safe here, my love. I promise you that no one will hurt you. Just breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

It took a long time, but, slowly, his breathing came back to normal. He relaxed—a bit—and you felt him slump forward, allowing you to support more of his weight. He tried to speak a few times: you heard him swallow, then breathe in, but he never quite found the words to say. You let go of his hand in favor of working your fingers through his hair. He liked that, you knew: in better times, it would make him go all soft and warm. It worked. After a while, you heard him let out a long sigh, almost a groan. Then he said your name.

“Are you here with me again? You’re still safe, my prince, I’ve got you.”

“I’m—sorry. I don’t—” God, he sounded so different. His voice was rough and harsh. You shook your head.

“Don’t apologize to me, honey, just keep breathing, okay? It’s alright.”

He reached out to take your hand, then, and though you would have liked to continue stroking his hair with both of your hands, it was clear that he needed to hold you, so you let him. “He burned me. Fire. Everything. It’s foolish, but I was right back there again.”

A chill ran through you. Thanos. Loki did not often speak of his time with the monster, but, between the nightmares that haunted him and the scars that crisscrossed his body, you knew enough. You squeezed his hand so tightly that your muscles began to tremble. “It’s not foolish. It’s normal. He hurt you so bad, Loki. But you are so much stronger than he is. You got away from him, and now you’re free. But this is normal. Trauma does this to people. Please don’t feel ashamed.” Tears stung your eyes again, but, once again, you willed them away. This wasn’t about you. Your tears wouldn’t help Loki in the slightest. “You’re _so brave_ , honey.”

He snorted at that, but he didn’t say anything in response. You stayed there like that for a while, touching him, holding him, breathing him in. There was so much that you wanted to say to him, but it all wound together in your mind. Instead, you just kept touching him. Maybe that was enough. 

After a while, you heard him draw in another deep breath and then release it. He brought your hand up to his lips again and kissed each of your knuckles in turn. There was something meditative about his actions. “I am...myself again, darling. Thank you.”

You let him make a few more passes along your knuckles before pulling away so you could tilt his chin up a little. You kissed his forehead. You kissed each of his eyelids. You kissed the bridge of his nose. Then, gently, softly, you kissed his lips. “You don’t need to thank me, Loki. I’ll always be here. I’m yours, remember? And you’re mine.”

Though his hand still trembled a bit, his touch was firm as he stroked your cheek. The light was returning to his eyes, and so was the mischief. “You’ve got me, hm? Well, what if I’ve got _you_?” Then he shifted positions and pulled you into his lap, so you wound up straddling him even as he closed his lips over yours. But it wasn’t sexual. You could feel each other like this, feel the solidity of the other’s body, and the warmth. You clung to one another as you kissed there on the living room floor, holding each other tightly even as the aroma of freshly-baked cookies filled the room.


End file.
